


federal holiday

by wtfmulder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 07:32:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15944684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtfmulder/pseuds/wtfmulder
Summary: The first holiday Mulder and Scully spend together as a couple. S7.





	federal holiday

**_I._** First time is an accident.

He says hello hey there how are ya and she lets him into her apartment that smells like so many lemons. “You been cleanin?” He asks, hanging his jacket on the coat rack. It’s been years since anybody’s cleaned for his arrival, if they ever did.

“It’s difficult for this to feel like vacation if we’re living in filth,” Scully answers, although he seriously doubts the mess had been anything close to filth. She takes his duffle bag from him – filled with clothes, some blockbuster videos, a board game or two – and hauls it into the bedroom.

A federal holiday filled with unfettered access to Dana Scully, without the pretense of school work or tragedy. He’s cautiously jubilant – cautious, because he’s never too sure how to feel when good things happen to him. Jubilant because he’s never had a reason to be excited for a holiday.

Scully pops two bagels in the toaster oven and pulls out cream cheese and strawberry jam from her fridge, and he pours the coffee for both of them. The eat breakfast at her wooden table in the soft light of the morning, laughing and talking about seriously nothing. When she rises up to put their dishes in the sink, he follows her like the moon rolling over the earth, and scoffs when she starts to wash the dishes. “We can do that later,” he says, spooning her from the back. She shakes her head and giggles when he sticks his nose in her hair.

“Wash as you go, Mulder,” she admonishes, rinsing off their knives, plates and coffee cups. “It makes a huge difference at the end of your – Mulder!” His teeth graze over her earlobe.

Kissing her neck and slipping his fingers underneath her cotton t-shirt happens as a reflex, not an action with conscious thought behind it. The need that courses through his body surprises him as much as it does Scully. Faucet gets turned off, a butter knife clatters in the sink. She turns around, lifts up on the tips of her toes and kisses him square on the mouth, pulling him down by the neck.

Her wet, soapy hands tickle his hair and her legs wrap around his waist as he lifts her up, carrying her back to the dining table they’d just eaten breakfast at. He sits her down, nestles standing between her legs until their hips are tight together, and marvels that it took him so long to have this with her.

First time is an accident. Surely they’ll have gotten it out of their system, and the rest of the day will be devoted to doing nothing.

 ** _II._** Second time is Scully’s fault.

They play poker and he kicks her ass so bad it pisses her off. He finds that funny enough to keep doing it. Her poker face is awful. When she’s had enough, she sweeps all the cards onto the floor and tackles him, growling, until they’re mixed in with the 52 pickup, rolling around and cackling as they try pinning each other to the floor.

He’s markedly stronger, but he takes it easy while Scully absolutely does not. Scully plays dirty, using all the ground fighting techniques they go over in training without actually going so far as to hurt him. She gets his arms pinned behind his back, stares down at him with wild blue eyes and crimson wisps of unruly hair poking out from her pony tail. She’s panting, sweaty, gorgeous and feral. “Concede,” she growls at him, the curl at the edge of her lip the only giveaway that she’s teasing.

“Make me,” he says back to her, suddenly breaking out of her hold and flipping her down by her hips. She squeals as they roll and he falls on top of her, pressing her down with a good amount of his weight. He plays dead and she moans, pushing up against him to no avail.

“Getoff,” she grunts, pushing up again. He stays still. “Mulder,” she shoves at his chest. “Uuuuuuugh,” she lets her head fall to the floor.

“You gonna be good?” He asks, knowing at any time she can wrap her legs around his waist and turn him over. He thinks that’s what she’s going to do, but something shifts in her face as he looks down at her, then he’s treated by a soft, slow roll of her hips. “Scully,” he warns. “Not fair.”

“It is,” she whispers, rolling her hips again. He’s hard, instantly. It’s the look on her face – naughty, daring, fucking sexy, the little succubus – and her persistence, the rough, calculated wave of her body against his.

“You wanna play? I’ll play.” He lifts into plank, drawing his knees against her trunk to keep her still, and grabs hold of her wrist to yank it over her head. “I’ll definitely play.” Grabs the other one. Holds them together in his fist.

Underneath him she huffs and puffs like a sports car engine, teeth gritted as she stares up. She doesn’t move. With one hand keeping her wrists secure, the other one slides over her stomach and then down into her staycation sweatpants, past her panties. She’s pulsing, sticky and burning hot.

“A little predictable,” he teases, but not-so-secretly loving it. No need for foreplay, then. “Keep them in place?” he asks, looking at her wrists. She does, and he follows the hills of her panting body as he unfastens his pants and pulls his cock out. Lets himself keep looking, jerking himself off to full hardness as she whimpers and lifts her hips up to urge him on. “God.” His eyes slide back up to where she’s straining her arms above her head, being so good for him.

The morning had been sweet and playful. This time he fucks her hard, biting at her neck, pulling her legs back up over her head to thrust all the way to the hilt, holding her down every time she tries to lift herself up. “Nope,” he says, shoving her back down. “Nope,” he says again. “Be good,” he moans into her ear, and she’s only really good when she comes, going still on the ground under his pounding body, crying out his name and pulling him deeper inside.

III. Third time’s a little bit of a fantasy he’s had since he was a teen and something he figured people stopped doing once they reached a certain age. Not Dana Scully. Halfway into a shitty The Exorcist knockoff, Scully’s sliding onto the floor and he almost follows, hoping to cuddle. She stops with a hand on his knee and crawls between his legs, stroking him over denim.

“Watch the movie,” she reminds him, nodding her head back to the screen. “You have to tell me what happens. I hate missing the important parts.” He doesn’t even want to finish the movie.

She undoes his fly. He wonders if he should just go pantless for the rest of the remainder of the weekend. Still mostly soft, she works and worships his dick until it’s long and full in her hand, licking him from root to tip and smacking kisses all along the shaft. He pulls her hair out of the ponytail and tangles his hands in it, groaning as she sucks him in.

There’s nothing like watching her do this. Years and years of misidentifying his feelings for different women and his questionable relationships with both sex and love warp the image a little, make it taboo. When he analyzes it he knows it’s wrong and unfair. But when he’s too far gone to give it any intelligent thought, all he can think of how dirty it is to see her like this, how pretty she looks with a cock in her mouth, how fucking hot it is that she can take most of it. But closer to the end of it, when she’s nuzzling the crown against her cheek, stroking her soft hands over his balls and asking him to come in that deep, growly voices of hers, all he can think of is how he loves her.

“What’d I miss?” She asks, tucking him back in his pants and licking at a stray strand of his cum at the corner of her mouth. He doesn’t answer, struggles to catch his breath as he melts into the couch.

 ** _IV._** They order pizza and spread it out for both dinner and lunch, drinking beer and flipping through bad evening TV as they talk and lounge around lazily. It’s stupid how much he loves being here with her. They spend at least eighty percent of their waking hours together, and here he is wondering how he can convince her to make this a more regular thing.

“You wanna know what I do on my days off?” she says, looking up at him. Her head is laying in his lap, his hands stroking her hair.

“Sit around waiting for me to call and whisk you away on an adventure?” She laughs and nuzzles his thigh, the corners of her eyes and her nose wrinkling adorably. “Yeah you do, while I stay at home and frantically come up with reasons to whisk you away.”

“I take bubble baths,” she says.

He goes through her oils, bubbles and salts, and decides on a sweet, dessert-like scent she only ever smells like on the weekends. Something vanilla-y and coconut-y. While the tub fills with hot water and the bathroom becomes pregnant with steam, they undress each other, stealing kisses as each piece of clothing is pulled from their bodies. He slides in first, careful not to slosh any water over the edge, and she follows in after, nestling between his legs and falling back into his chest.

“I see why you’re always doing this.” He closes his eyes and rolls his head back, moaning as the warm water massages at every aching spot on his body. The image of Scully in this very tub has plagued him since the early days. Anything and everything, from her dragging a razor over her elegant leg, lathering her hair with her sexy, too expensive shampoo, her fingers parting clouds of bubbles to sink down, down, between her spread thighs…

“Mmm. Good for stress relief.” She turns her head to brush her lips over his bicep, and he smiles, half-asleep.

“Feels like I’m intruding.” She shakes her head against his chest pulls his arms around her body like a little coat. “Hmm. Like I’ve been invited into the secret life of Dana Scully. We should do face masks next.” He tweaks her nipple, smiling again at her gasp. He cups one full breast in his hand and sighs the sigh of a man in heaven. “Then we’ll listen to… “ same hand slips down her tummy, rubbing gently over her sweetly furred mons. “Late-night talk radio, and read about gene therapy for… blindness in rhesus monkeys…”

All the while she’d been melting and wriggling in his arms, waiting for more. “Mulder, wait.” She breaks from his arms and reaches over the side of the tub, taking some of the bubbles with her. She sits back, equipped with a little bottle that she uncaps triumphantly. “Waterproof lubricant,” she explains, barely tamping down her excitement.

“Dana Scully,” he says, amused and turned on beyond belief. “Now I know what you’ve really been doing every time you draw a bath when we’re in the field.” He grabs the bottle from her and pours a generous amount into his hand, kissing the top of her head when she leans back against him. He reaches a hand between her legs, slicking her up, then pours a bit more lube in his hand for posterity.

She writhes and moans against him, crackling under the water, sizzling against his fingers like hot oil. His thumb strokes over her clit and then he dips inside her, making her slick with the lube and some of her own juices. His cock draws up tight against her lower back, throbbing, and he groans when she backs up against it.

“Is this nice?” He rasps in her ear, more in love with this version of Scully than he ever thought possible. Who is relaxed, who is luxuriant, who puts her pleasure first.

“Bigger hands than mine,” she gasps and cries out, knocking her head back against his chin. They both say ouch, but his hand doesn’t stop working. His knuckles pop in and out of the water, sloshing it about as he fucks her good.

Now he’s thinking about her little hands working between her own legs, making herself come on the nights he isn’t around, all the nights he couldn’t take care of her. Without him in the tub she’d have more room to spread out wide. The water would lick her wet, and she would lay there and think of him as she gasped and…

“Oh, Mulder.” Her back lifts in a graceful arch as she tightens around him, his lips pressed to her cheek.

 **V.** After toweling the soap from their bodies, they fall in between her crisp, cool sheets, and she pulls the blanket over them as they kiss and fumble around. Cocooned in the warm blanket, tangled between her oil-slick legs, he is numb with pleasure and drunk on happiness, sipping at her mouth like good scotch.

She’s sloppy wet with her own cum, so when he slides inside her it is smooooooth. She perches over her hips and takes him in gently, until she’s pressed up against the scrub of wiry hair at the base of his cock. “Ah.” She shows him her vulnerable throat, and oh does he want to scrape it up with his teeth. Pearly and succulent, framed by the cross that kept her with him.

The tips of her hair are still wet from their bath and the humidity made the dry parts curl up. He messes it up more on purpose, stringing his hands through her hair and turning it into a birds nest as she rides him lazily. He’s always found looking into a lover’s eyes for an extended amount of time to be awkward and distracting, but hers are unavoidable. It would be too easy to fall into a forever staring contest with her and die that way, he thinks sappily, heavily intoxicated by pussy.

The lack of speed drives him fucking crazy, but he’s careful not to rush her. He’d spent most of the day inside her anyway. He might move in and call it home. When she picks up the pace, he breathes out a sigh of relief and surges his hips up into her, laughing when she spears his chest with her nails, then leans in to hover over him and lick at his lips.

For a few moments, he sincerely forgets everything bad that ever happened to him. All he can remember is Dana Scully, who is the best memory anybody could hope to have. She brings his hand up to her left breast and holds it there, and then, looking down at him, so beautiful it will probably make him cry, she asks “Keep it in place?”

And he does, he does, he does, holding her by the heart until they both cross over the threshold.


End file.
